I had a great opener,all the trimmin's but no MEAT

redbeard · March 28, 2005

The long anticipated opening day finally arrived Saturday and while I didn't roost a bird that didn't stop me from being the first in the woods. It felt dang good to be walkin' the woods in my Russell snake boots, 9 pounder vest on, and my ole SP10 slung over my shoulder. I eased down the loggin' road at 5:30. Walkin' slow and quiet, I stopped at each Barred owl hoot and holler. Although they were fired up down in the holler, no tom answered their taunts. Easin' on down, I got to the pipeline, backslide down a slick pine and popped in a game ear. It wasn't 15 minutes until the first bird sounded off with one nice gobble. I judged it to my left and was up in a flash. I took the game ear out so I could judge the distance better the next time. Just after I did, gobble, obble, obble, from behind me. I cursed the directional lackin's of the game ear as I turned and started hotfootin'. Now they were really gettin' fired up. I covered about half the distance back up the loggin' road and figured I musta just about walked right under the birds earlier. Well, I veered off the road and headed straight for the gobbles. 'Bout the time I could hear him drummin' I figured I was close enough. I was on one pine ridge and he was on another not a scant 100 yds away, a very open oak forest openin' in between us. I dared not to enter there, no leaves for cover. So I did the best I could, sat up on a skinny pine and started my business. Took out a slate call I made my son and gave it a few yelps and was pleasantly responded to by not only one tom but two. Hot dog. They were still in the trees so I didn't call much. Pulled out a Lathem slate and did some softer tree yelps and they continued to holler and holler, roundin' up those hens. About 15 min. passed and the next time, they sound like the are on the ground. Man, if I could just get about 10 more yards I could see the top of that ridge. But I knew better. Just about the time, I was thinkin' that again, here a turk started tree jumpin'. He's about 80 yards now. I can't see the bird, just the silouhette. I'm staring the bird down to see if it's the tom when I hear the next gobble. Sure enough, I see movement like it was stretchin' it's neck when the next gobble came. Now all he had to do was pitch my way. I tree called fairly loud again and here comes the bird, sailin' right for my ridge. I'd read where a fly down cackle while the bird is in mid air is good, so I let one fly. As it neared the ground, I saw it was not the tom but a hen. Now, by this time, I'm ready to shoot, all scrunched up, bead on, soon as she lands, she says "POCK" pretty dang loud. I wouldn't call it a putt or a cluck. Heck, I was so dry mouthed I couldn't yelp. Then I heard her purr, it's gonna be ok, I thought. I can't see her, so I eased down and start purrin' on my Lathem slate, one handed. Then the butter balls came. Down the opposite pine ridge, thru the oak holler came the two toms. All big, black and blowed up. White heads so bright in the dim forest. They head straight for the hen. 80 yds, 70 yds, 60 yds, man my heart was beatin' bad. Then they start chasin' each other and I see the hen now. They run each other a round in a couple of circles and I see the hen is loosin' interest, headin' away from me. Dang. I let out some more yelps but to no avail. Those butterballs just followed that one hen on away. I watched them for about 10 minutes and while it looked like they'd stay, they didn't. Shoot, I was wishin' I knew that special call that would've brought that hen to me. Oh well, good show so far. I didn't want to put much pressure on 'em, so I just stayed where I was for almost an hour. I located them again with a crow call and took out again. Now they were in another DEEP oak gorge. Again, no gettin close in those oak forests. So I called from the pine tops. By this time, the bird had drawed a couple of hunters from the pipeland and they were really throwin' that bird the turkey talk. Sounded like a pinched whale call to me but that tom sure was gobblin' at it. He nary budged an inch, either toward them or me. Soon they quit, I guessed and I checked him again with a crow call and gobble, obble was offered at my bequest. They were leavin again. Shoot, I needed to get in front of 'em. So I rounded that gorge and eased out on the pipeline and guess what, they'd beat me as I glimsed the two big ole black birds quick steppin' into the woods. Now mind you, I was thinkin' I was workin' the original birds I'd sat up on earlier. Well I had plans to head back to my truck and go to the bottom side of the club and try and work those birds from that angle. Heck, no sooner than I rounded the corner of the loggin' road adjacent to where they roosted, was one hen and two strutter right there in the road. Busted They hurried off and so did I, back to the truck. It was 80 degrees by this time and I'd had enough. It was good to come to find out, though, my original direction towards the first gobble was correct. Sometimes too many birds gobblin' can really mess with your head

The evenin' roost proved fruitful as I heard several hens fly up down below in the bottoms from the ridge they'd picked the night before. At least I knew an area to start in. Then came the real thunder boomers. From 10pm til 8:30 am it rained and rained hard. Heck, one thunder clap had me two foot off the bed and sayin' my prayers a big ol pine didn't squash my head. I slept in. Then it eased up and I headed out on foot. I was 50 yards from camp, when I spied a tom on the loggin' road. I stopped and he was just peckin' and walkin', towards me. I eased my binoculars to my eyes and spied him. Turned out to be a jake so, I just watched. He finally saw me and ran off. I took off for otter way to cross the creek and head toward the pipeline. Couldn't cross the creek, as it was overflowin' with rushin' rapids. Ending up walkin a mile to where the creek started just so I could cross it. Then I finally made the pipeline where I figured the birds would be airin'out. It's 'bout 11:00 by this time. No birds, I sit and wait an hour and still no birds. Well, I figured the next best bet would be the loggin' roads, so I just started easin' up 'em. Lookin' for tracks and callin' sparingly. It was about high noon when the clouds rolled in again and the thunder started boomin'. No gobbles, shoot. I let out a loud cluck on my trumphet call and about that time God smacked the ground with another thunder bolt and that woke 'em up. Obble, obble, obble, bigtime, just below me in an oak bottom. I eased towards them, as they sounded close. The next time they sounded off, I judged them to be about 60 yards below me. I sat up against a wet pine and pulled out my Knight and Hale pocket puppy, threw out some yelps. Yelped some more on my diaphram and was rewarded with what sounded like two gobblers. Good uns' too. Oh man oh man, I got ready and I saw those heads comin' up the hillside, one, two, three. Oh my god, this is going to be just like those videos, four. I had four red heads comin' straight for me. By the time I could see beards, they were 20 yards away. It's funny how they can pinpoint your position to the very minute, exact, spot that last call came from. Simply amazin'. Well, they knew there should be a hen there, so they all stood up real nice and proud and guess what, they were all jakes. I guess with them all gobblin' at the same time, it made for one bodacious gobble. The next thunder slap from above opened the skies and down came the water. That was enough for me but it ended up a pretty good weekend for me. I'd seen 4 toms, 5 jakes and 4 hens in two days. Got to work 3 different toms and 4 jakes. No meat but I surely had my fill o taters. Can't wait for the next encounter..........til then, my friends, I bid your farewell.

JoshM · March 28, 2005